Stolen Child
Chapter 23
The minute you let her under your skin,
(Then you begin to make it better.)
Amazed, Professor Severus Snape watched the beautiful woman who was sleeping in a most unlikely place- his own bed. Even in sleep, her brow was furrowed, the delicate skin around her eyes red and puffy, her small fists balled tightly. He, on the other hand stood a few feet away, hands lightly clasped behind his back, more at peace than he had been in twenty years.
She had cried into his chest for longer than he knew, first in the doorway, and then as he led her into his chambers, and then as they sat together upon his bed, since he had no other place to fit two. She had cried as he had never heard someone cry before, great sobbing wails of horrible grief, and for once, he found himself pitying someone other than himself. He had tangled his fingers in her thick, wavy hair, and had cradled her like a child, wishing for nothing more than for her pain to be eased. Her tears had soaked through his shirt and he had felt their warmth upon his shoulder, and he found himself wondering what they would taste like if he dared to kiss them away. But for then he had been content to simply speculate, and continued to cradle her gently.
For a brief moment he considered crawling in to bed next to her and wrapping his arms around her slender body, but she had just fallen asleep, and it would be cruel to even think of waking her. Instead he reluctantly turned and left his room. His students would be returning in just a few days, and he had one last stack of papers to grade, not to mention the first of his lesson plans to write.
Easing himself down into his chair, he began the first of many tedious tasks, his mind ever wandering back to the woman asleep in his own room. He knew it was foolish to become so fixated on her, on anyone for that matter, but there was no stopping it now- he was falling. How could he be so foolish? Despite her training, and his knowledge, would they honestly be able to fight off the wild hunt if they returned? Was he not just setting himself up to loose someone he cared for yet again? It was a proven fact, those he cared for, did not last long. And what of his task? If they battled with the Hunt, and it seemed as though all was lost- could he honestly use the killing curse on her? Would he ever forgive himself if he did? Would he ever forgive himself if he didn't?
The grading of his final stack of papers went extremely slow, but as always, he forced himself to do what he had to do, and eventually finished after nearly an hour and a half of struggling. Then came his first lesson plan, one of his least favorite tasks, but one that he fully understood was completely necessary.
It was halfway through the third week's plan that he felt sudden warmth upon his cheek. Not direct, but the strange heat that one feels when they sense someone is watching them. His eyes immediately left the parchment before him, and darting towards the open door which led to his quarters. Standing in the doorway, was Hermione, leaning against the frame, her hair tousled even more than usual from sleep, her cheek with a red line upon it, probably from a crease in the fabric of his pillow.
"Good Afternoon, Ms. Granger." He looked her over one last time, before forcing his eyes back down to the paper before him once more. It was useless, though; there was no way he could continue to read with her not ten feet away.
Hermione did not answer. She simply watched him, nervously worrying her bottom lip. Her grief had waned considerably, had been soothed by his gentle touch, his raw, untried caring. It was still there, pulsing in the back of her mind, but the corners had been smoothed, and her heart ached with more pleasant emotions, not just sorrow. She could not simply pretend that nothing had happened- that he hadn't held her, and cradled her, and laid her down in his own bed where she had fallen asleep awash in his spicy scent. Her dreams had been filled with him as well, and his long fingered, calloused hands, which were always gentle, no matter his words.
Gathering her strength, she cautiously approached him, unnerved by the sound of her own shoes clopping on the stone floor. He did not look up, but she couldn't help but noticed that his quill had ceased moving. And then she was by his side.
Professor Snape could not force his heart to halt its insistent pounding as he not only heard, but felt her near him, nor could he push down the large lump forming within his throat. What on Earth was she doing? He should stop her before she came any closer- just a few well chosen harsh words would do nicely, but he could not make his mouth work, or his head turn, and so he simply waited.
Heart working fiercely against her chest, Hermione tentatively reached out and placed a hand upon his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath his cotton shirt. "Sir...I just wanted to say..." But she could say no more. She had meant to thank him, had meant to tell him how much his comfort meant to her... but she could not. Instead she stepped even closer, and circled her arms around him in a gentle embrace, hoping her actions would speak for her lack of words. She leaned against him, tightly shutting her eyes, the top of her head nestled against the column of his neck. He tensed beneath her, but it was only a moment before he relaxed, and she gripped him a bit more tightly, a bit more urgently.
After several moments, Snape awkwardly reached a hand up to cup her shoulder, trying his best to politely return the embrace, without seeming as though he was putting himself out. Wanting nothing more than to pull her against him once more, and sooth whatever ailed her, but knowing that in the end, no matter what, nothing good could ever come of their relationship.
Hermione could not help but jump slightly as his forearm inadvertently brushed against her side, just above the side swell of her breast, and despite the fact that her mind was screaming that he hadn't meant to, that he hadn't intended to touch her anywhere but her shoulder, her cheeks went suddenly red, her throat dry, and the small stretch of skin beneath her robes which he had accidentally touched, burned for more. It was the simplest touch, as brief as the match stroke across striking paper, and yet that tiny spark had ignited her passion, unwilling as she was. Before the fire had time to die out, and her momentarily stunned senses could recover, Hermione had already tilted her head, his intoxicating scent filling her lungs before and then as her lips found the very corner of his jaw.
Everything within Snape, all twenty something years of self training, self loathing, told him to push her away, cast her aside, end it then, but he found himself unable to do anything but wait, and pray that she wouldn't leave.
His pulse was rapid beneath her lips, and she could not resist tasting his burning skin with the tip of her tongue. It was slightly salty, vaguely herbal, and completely wonderful. When he did not recoil, or push her away, she trailed kisses along his sharp jaw line, straitening slightly as she made a path to the corner of his mouth, delighting in the slight dip before the rise of his lips. Emboldened by the audible quickening of his breath, she brought her hand to the side of his face, upon which she could feel a tiny bit of stubble. Experimentally she kissed the corner of his mouth, exhaling slowly, praying that he would pull her into his arms and kiss her properly, but he remained completely still, though his breathing had momentarily ceased. "Professor?" She wasn't sure if he heard her- she could barely hear herself, but as she slightly backed away, she found him watching her, trepidation written clearly across his expression. How could she reach him? Soothe him as he had her? How could she pull him out of his shell, how could she bring him to her? "Sir, please kiss me."
That was all he needed. She wanted him to kiss her, she had asked, and he had seen nothing but sincerity in her wide, slightly misted eyes. And so he leaned towards her, and captured her lips with his own. If whatever they had was doomed, as he knew it had to be, what was the sense in fighting? He had already been captured, had already been ensnared by her, and his own emotions, so no matter what, he would be hurt yet again, so why not simply let go and enjoy it while it lasted?
Hermione responded immediately, wrapping her arms around him once more, pressing her body against him as much as possible, savoring the fresh taste of his lips and eventually his tongue and he began to explore her lips and mouth. It felt as though every nerve within her had suddenly begun straining and reaching towards him, aching for his touch, and she felt and incredible tension building along her spine and shoulders, causing her to shiver violently, and clutch his shoulders desperately, trying to pull him from his seat.
Readily, Snape complied, pulling her into his embrace without hesitation, gently yet firmly grasping her upper arms to hold her to him, hungrily testing every corner of her mouth.
Desperately she pressed against him, her slender fingers tangled in his fine hair, a soft whimper escaping her captured lips, praying that he wouldn't balk once again. If he did, she silently vowed to simply not allow him to leave again. Almost to emphasis her point, she absently gripped his hair a bit tighter, her body shaking it was pressed to him so tightly. For a moment, he frightened her, pulling away to meet her eyes, but her fears were immediately dashed to bits as he, instead of fleeing, bent to taste the corner of her jaw, where it met the graceful line of her throat. Her breath quickening, Hermione tilted her head, missing the taste of his lips upon hers terribly for several moments before finally giving in. Fingers loosening from his hair, she lightly trailed them over the back of his neck, delighting in the goose bumps she felt a moment later.
Never, in all his life, had he ever wanted anything, or anyone more than he found himself wanting her. It had been well over a decade since he had given in to carnal lust, and he had never even felt the spark of the need to make love to someone, until now. Unable to control himself, he gently, yet passionately nipped at her throat, his ability to keep his desire in check quickly failing. He wanted to throw her across his desk and take her like a madman, and at the same time he wanted to lay with her in his bed and explore, caress, adore every bit of her with his eyes, his body, his hands, his lips, his tongue. The nip that followed was much more intense, and he was both delighted and alarmed by the soft cry that escaped her lips. He began to pull away, until he felt her hands upon the back of his head, pulling him to her once more.
"Don't go..."
Her voice was an airy whisper, and though he was far from well versed in the subtle language of a lover, he could not ignore the desire clearly displayed in her actions and softly spoken words. "Ms. Granger...." He pulled just far enough away to meet her eyes, clouded with desire and fear.
"Please, Sir... Severus... I have wanted you for so long, I have adored you for so long...." Hermione blushed furiously. The words slipped between her lips before she could stop them.
Her open, completely naked words instantly stopped him in his tracks. A chill radiated from the center of his chest and his thoughts became suddenly, starkly clear. He was pulled from the swirling desire shared between them, and gently but firmly, he pushed her away, holding her at an arm's length. "Ms. Granger...Hermione...forgive me......" The look upon her face caused him to visibly wince, and absently, his grip tightened slightly upon her arms. "I...I cannot...I cannot do this....no matter what I want, I simply do not deserve something as wonderful as this....someone as wonderful as you...please understand."
Hermione swallowed hard, and backed away a bit more on her own, watching him silently, her voice having failed her completely. The desire built up within her quickly faded, and she was left feeling empty, her heart aching terribly within her chest. Her cheeks, already flushed with desire, deepened in color, her lips tightening into and angry purse. Against her will, she felt the painful sting of fresh tears welling up within her eyes.
What had he been thinking? Despite their feelings, and his desire to do nothing but embrace her, and a relationship with her, he simply did not deserve a happy ending, even if it was within reach. He was a disgusting, filthy old man, he had been the pawn that had brought Albus to his doom, he was abusive, and simply horrible. What business did he have seeking out such happiness? How could he have been so selfish? Even if the silly girl wanted him, he could never been anything worth having. Quickly he withdrew his hands, and stepped back from her, tearing his eyes from the hurt, and anger clearly expressed upon her face. "I cannot allow myself to do anything but teach you, Ms. Granger, no matter what I..we..may desire. Forgive me."
"You.....Bastard." Tears spilled down from her narrowed eyes, down her red cheeks, to her jaw. "How....how DARE you?" Before she even considered her actions, Hermione's hand shot up and slapped him hard across the face, hard enough to cause him to stumble backwards.
There was a brief pause, a stunned silence between them both, Hermione glaring at him, her hand stinging, and a sudden, deep rooted regret welling up within her; And Snape standing a few feet from her, sorrow and pain intermixed in his eyes, a red impression upon his pale cheek.
Swallowing hard, to prideful to apologize, Hermione whirled around and bonded out of the room, new tears spilling down her reddened cheek.
"Please forgive me, Hermione." Snape watched her go, his form hunched over slightly- never had he felt so disgusting, but what was done was done- he only hoped that she would still allow him to tutor her, for both their sakes.
Hey Jude The Beatles
Hey Jude, don't make it bad.
Take a sad song and make it better.
Remember to let her into your heart,
Then you can start to make it better.
Hey Jude, don't be afraid.
You were made to go out and get her.
The minute you let her under your skin,
Then you begin to make it better.
And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain,
Don't carry the world upon your shoulders.
For well you know that it's a fool who plays it cool
By making his world a little colder.
Hey Jude, don't let me down.
You have found her, now go and get her.
Remember to let her into your heart,
Then you can start to make it better.
So let it out and let it in, hey Jude, begin,
You're waiting for someone to perform with.
And don't you know that it's just you, hey Jude, you'll do,
The movement you need is on your shoulder.
Hey Jude, don't make it bad.
Take a sad song and make it better.
Remember to let her under your skin,
Then you'll begin to make it
Better better better better better better, oh.
Eck, I apologize like a mofo for the enormous gap between this and the last chapter, I also apologize for the not so great quality of the chapter above, I've got to get back into the swing of things. The enormous gap was caused by my upcoming wedding (Next Saturday!), and a bad case of writers block, and the only reason I could crank this one out was because I happened to read over it today, and really liked the beginning (I had tried to write this chapter about 6 times, and was satisfied with none of the different versions) and so I finished I off..... Not sure when the next chapter will be coming along, but I'll try . Lots of love, Sarah
Update: This version has been updated a bit, to go along with chapter 24 :D.....The wedding went very well, all horrible, stressful events aside, and it's true what they say- you laugh when you look back on it if you'd like to see some pics go to the "wedding stuff" album here-- http:community.webshots.com/user/sikudani
Chapter 23
The minute you let her under your skin,
(Then you begin to make it better.)
Amazed, Professor Severus Snape watched the beautiful woman who was sleeping in a most unlikely place- his own bed. Even in sleep, her brow was furrowed, the delicate skin around her eyes red and puffy, her small fists balled tightly. He, on the other hand stood a few feet away, hands lightly clasped behind his back, more at peace than he had been in twenty years.
She had cried into his chest for longer than he knew, first in the doorway, and then as he led her into his chambers, and then as they sat together upon his bed, since he had no other place to fit two. She had cried as he had never heard someone cry before, great sobbing wails of horrible grief, and for once, he found himself pitying someone other than himself. He had tangled his fingers in her thick, wavy hair, and had cradled her like a child, wishing for nothing more than for her pain to be eased. Her tears had soaked through his shirt and he had felt their warmth upon his shoulder, and he found himself wondering what they would taste like if he dared to kiss them away. But for then he had been content to simply speculate, and continued to cradle her gently.
For a brief moment he considered crawling in to bed next to her and wrapping his arms around her slender body, but she had just fallen asleep, and it would be cruel to even think of waking her. Instead he reluctantly turned and left his room. His students would be returning in just a few days, and he had one last stack of papers to grade, not to mention the first of his lesson plans to write.
Easing himself down into his chair, he began the first of many tedious tasks, his mind ever wandering back to the woman asleep in his own room. He knew it was foolish to become so fixated on her, on anyone for that matter, but there was no stopping it now- he was falling. How could he be so foolish? Despite her training, and his knowledge, would they honestly be able to fight off the wild hunt if they returned? Was he not just setting himself up to loose someone he cared for yet again? It was a proven fact, those he cared for, did not last long. And what of his task? If they battled with the Hunt, and it seemed as though all was lost- could he honestly use the killing curse on her? Would he ever forgive himself if he did? Would he ever forgive himself if he didn't?
The grading of his final stack of papers went extremely slow, but as always, he forced himself to do what he had to do, and eventually finished after nearly an hour and a half of struggling. Then came his first lesson plan, one of his least favorite tasks, but one that he fully understood was completely necessary.
It was halfway through the third week's plan that he felt sudden warmth upon his cheek. Not direct, but the strange heat that one feels when they sense someone is watching them. His eyes immediately left the parchment before him, and darting towards the open door which led to his quarters. Standing in the doorway, was Hermione, leaning against the frame, her hair tousled even more than usual from sleep, her cheek with a red line upon it, probably from a crease in the fabric of his pillow.
"Good Afternoon, Ms. Granger." He looked her over one last time, before forcing his eyes back down to the paper before him once more. It was useless, though; there was no way he could continue to read with her not ten feet away.
Hermione did not answer. She simply watched him, nervously worrying her bottom lip. Her grief had waned considerably, had been soothed by his gentle touch, his raw, untried caring. It was still there, pulsing in the back of her mind, but the corners had been smoothed, and her heart ached with more pleasant emotions, not just sorrow. She could not simply pretend that nothing had happened- that he hadn't held her, and cradled her, and laid her down in his own bed where she had fallen asleep awash in his spicy scent. Her dreams had been filled with him as well, and his long fingered, calloused hands, which were always gentle, no matter his words.
Gathering her strength, she cautiously approached him, unnerved by the sound of her own shoes clopping on the stone floor. He did not look up, but she couldn't help but noticed that his quill had ceased moving. And then she was by his side.
Professor Snape could not force his heart to halt its insistent pounding as he not only heard, but felt her near him, nor could he push down the large lump forming within his throat. What on Earth was she doing? He should stop her before she came any closer- just a few well chosen harsh words would do nicely, but he could not make his mouth work, or his head turn, and so he simply waited.
Heart working fiercely against her chest, Hermione tentatively reached out and placed a hand upon his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath his cotton shirt. "Sir...I just wanted to say..." But she could say no more. She had meant to thank him, had meant to tell him how much his comfort meant to her... but she could not. Instead she stepped even closer, and circled her arms around him in a gentle embrace, hoping her actions would speak for her lack of words. She leaned against him, tightly shutting her eyes, the top of her head nestled against the column of his neck. He tensed beneath her, but it was only a moment before he relaxed, and she gripped him a bit more tightly, a bit more urgently.
After several moments, Snape awkwardly reached a hand up to cup her shoulder, trying his best to politely return the embrace, without seeming as though he was putting himself out. Wanting nothing more than to pull her against him once more, and sooth whatever ailed her, but knowing that in the end, no matter what, nothing good could ever come of their relationship.
Hermione could not help but jump slightly as his forearm inadvertently brushed against her side, just above the side swell of her breast, and despite the fact that her mind was screaming that he hadn't meant to, that he hadn't intended to touch her anywhere but her shoulder, her cheeks went suddenly red, her throat dry, and the small stretch of skin beneath her robes which he had accidentally touched, burned for more. It was the simplest touch, as brief as the match stroke across striking paper, and yet that tiny spark had ignited her passion, unwilling as she was. Before the fire had time to die out, and her momentarily stunned senses could recover, Hermione had already tilted her head, his intoxicating scent filling her lungs before and then as her lips found the very corner of his jaw.
Everything within Snape, all twenty something years of self training, self loathing, told him to push her away, cast her aside, end it then, but he found himself unable to do anything but wait, and pray that she wouldn't leave.
His pulse was rapid beneath her lips, and she could not resist tasting his burning skin with the tip of her tongue. It was slightly salty, vaguely herbal, and completely wonderful. When he did not recoil, or push her away, she trailed kisses along his sharp jaw line, straitening slightly as she made a path to the corner of his mouth, delighting in the slight dip before the rise of his lips. Emboldened by the audible quickening of his breath, she brought her hand to the side of his face, upon which she could feel a tiny bit of stubble. Experimentally she kissed the corner of his mouth, exhaling slowly, praying that he would pull her into his arms and kiss her properly, but he remained completely still, though his breathing had momentarily ceased. "Professor?" She wasn't sure if he heard her- she could barely hear herself, but as she slightly backed away, she found him watching her, trepidation written clearly across his expression. How could she reach him? Soothe him as he had her? How could she pull him out of his shell, how could she bring him to her? "Sir, please kiss me."
That was all he needed. She wanted him to kiss her, she had asked, and he had seen nothing but sincerity in her wide, slightly misted eyes. And so he leaned towards her, and captured her lips with his own. If whatever they had was doomed, as he knew it had to be, what was the sense in fighting? He had already been captured, had already been ensnared by her, and his own emotions, so no matter what, he would be hurt yet again, so why not simply let go and enjoy it while it lasted?
Hermione responded immediately, wrapping her arms around him once more, pressing her body against him as much as possible, savoring the fresh taste of his lips and eventually his tongue and he began to explore her lips and mouth. It felt as though every nerve within her had suddenly begun straining and reaching towards him, aching for his touch, and she felt and incredible tension building along her spine and shoulders, causing her to shiver violently, and clutch his shoulders desperately, trying to pull him from his seat.
Readily, Snape complied, pulling her into his embrace without hesitation, gently yet firmly grasping her upper arms to hold her to him, hungrily testing every corner of her mouth.
Desperately she pressed against him, her slender fingers tangled in his fine hair, a soft whimper escaping her captured lips, praying that he wouldn't balk once again. If he did, she silently vowed to simply not allow him to leave again. Almost to emphasis her point, she absently gripped his hair a bit tighter, her body shaking it was pressed to him so tightly. For a moment, he frightened her, pulling away to meet her eyes, but her fears were immediately dashed to bits as he, instead of fleeing, bent to taste the corner of her jaw, where it met the graceful line of her throat. Her breath quickening, Hermione tilted her head, missing the taste of his lips upon hers terribly for several moments before finally giving in. Fingers loosening from his hair, she lightly trailed them over the back of his neck, delighting in the goose bumps she felt a moment later.
Never, in all his life, had he ever wanted anything, or anyone more than he found himself wanting her. It had been well over a decade since he had given in to carnal lust, and he had never even felt the spark of the need to make love to someone, until now. Unable to control himself, he gently, yet passionately nipped at her throat, his ability to keep his desire in check quickly failing. He wanted to throw her across his desk and take her like a madman, and at the same time he wanted to lay with her in his bed and explore, caress, adore every bit of her with his eyes, his body, his hands, his lips, his tongue. The nip that followed was much more intense, and he was both delighted and alarmed by the soft cry that escaped her lips. He began to pull away, until he felt her hands upon the back of his head, pulling him to her once more.
"Don't go..."
Her voice was an airy whisper, and though he was far from well versed in the subtle language of a lover, he could not ignore the desire clearly displayed in her actions and softly spoken words. "Ms. Granger...." He pulled just far enough away to meet her eyes, clouded with desire and fear.
"Please, Sir... Severus... I have wanted you for so long, I have adored you for so long...." Hermione blushed furiously. The words slipped between her lips before she could stop them.
Her open, completely naked words instantly stopped him in his tracks. A chill radiated from the center of his chest and his thoughts became suddenly, starkly clear. He was pulled from the swirling desire shared between them, and gently but firmly, he pushed her away, holding her at an arm's length. "Ms. Granger...Hermione...forgive me......" The look upon her face caused him to visibly wince, and absently, his grip tightened slightly upon her arms. "I...I cannot...I cannot do this....no matter what I want, I simply do not deserve something as wonderful as this....someone as wonderful as you...please understand."
Hermione swallowed hard, and backed away a bit more on her own, watching him silently, her voice having failed her completely. The desire built up within her quickly faded, and she was left feeling empty, her heart aching terribly within her chest. Her cheeks, already flushed with desire, deepened in color, her lips tightening into and angry purse. Against her will, she felt the painful sting of fresh tears welling up within her eyes.
What had he been thinking? Despite their feelings, and his desire to do nothing but embrace her, and a relationship with her, he simply did not deserve a happy ending, even if it was within reach. He was a disgusting, filthy old man, he had been the pawn that had brought Albus to his doom, he was abusive, and simply horrible. What business did he have seeking out such happiness? How could he have been so selfish? Even if the silly girl wanted him, he could never been anything worth having. Quickly he withdrew his hands, and stepped back from her, tearing his eyes from the hurt, and anger clearly expressed upon her face. "I cannot allow myself to do anything but teach you, Ms. Granger, no matter what I..we..may desire. Forgive me."
"You.....Bastard." Tears spilled down from her narrowed eyes, down her red cheeks, to her jaw. "How....how DARE you?" Before she even considered her actions, Hermione's hand shot up and slapped him hard across the face, hard enough to cause him to stumble backwards.
There was a brief pause, a stunned silence between them both, Hermione glaring at him, her hand stinging, and a sudden, deep rooted regret welling up within her; And Snape standing a few feet from her, sorrow and pain intermixed in his eyes, a red impression upon his pale cheek.
Swallowing hard, to prideful to apologize, Hermione whirled around and bonded out of the room, new tears spilling down her reddened cheek.
"Please forgive me, Hermione." Snape watched her go, his form hunched over slightly- never had he felt so disgusting, but what was done was done- he only hoped that she would still allow him to tutor her, for both their sakes.
Hey Jude The Beatles
Hey Jude, don't make it bad.
Take a sad song and make it better.
Remember to let her into your heart,
Then you can start to make it better.
Hey Jude, don't be afraid.
You were made to go out and get her.
The minute you let her under your skin,
Then you begin to make it better.
And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain,
Don't carry the world upon your shoulders.
For well you know that it's a fool who plays it cool
By making his world a little colder.
Hey Jude, don't let me down.
You have found her, now go and get her.
Remember to let her into your heart,
Then you can start to make it better.
So let it out and let it in, hey Jude, begin,
You're waiting for someone to perform with.
And don't you know that it's just you, hey Jude, you'll do,
The movement you need is on your shoulder.
Hey Jude, don't make it bad.
Take a sad song and make it better.
Remember to let her under your skin,
Then you'll begin to make it
Better better better better better better, oh.
Eck, I apologize like a mofo for the enormous gap between this and the last chapter, I also apologize for the not so great quality of the chapter above, I've got to get back into the swing of things. The enormous gap was caused by my upcoming wedding (Next Saturday!), and a bad case of writers block, and the only reason I could crank this one out was because I happened to read over it today, and really liked the beginning (I had tried to write this chapter about 6 times, and was satisfied with none of the different versions) and so I finished I off..... Not sure when the next chapter will be coming along, but I'll try . Lots of love, Sarah
Update: This version has been updated a bit, to go along with chapter 24 :D.....The wedding went very well, all horrible, stressful events aside, and it's true what they say- you laugh when you look back on it if you'd like to see some pics go to the "wedding stuff" album here-- http:community.webshots.com/user/sikudani